


Asked and Answered

by bluespring864



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22366030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluespring864/pseuds/bluespring864
Summary: Aziraphale wants to ask something. But Crowley answers a different question instead.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 80





	Asked and Answered

**Author's Note:**

> Look at me, I've started about a dozen stories with these two since I last posted... and finished one tiny drabble. Oh well. It isn't much, but it's something :-)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos on my first Good Omens story, I appreciate every single one and will usually get around to having a look at your own stories at some point (which incidentally made me realise that the sheer amount of writers in this fandom is quite extraordinary <3).

„Crowley?“

Aziraphale has adopted that particular tone of voice with him practically from the beginning, and the look that accompanies it has been levelled at Crowley for at least 2000 years, as well. Crowley has managed to deal with that look for 2000 years. But all of a sudden, it’s too much.

“I have to leave.”

It’s… he just absolutely has to. The pull is too strong. If he doesn’t leave, he will –

“Crowley?”

Aziraphale sounds lost, and, already halfway out the door, he almost turns back. Almost.

“Crowley, wait!”

He does not.

“Crowley, please.”

_Oh no._

Now he has stopped.

_Don’t turn around._

“Crowley!”

Aziraphale has stepped around him and is looking at him earnestly. With big, pleading eyes.

“What hap-“

He’s rather abruptly cut off, because Crowley has firmly seized the angel’s face in both hands and pressed their lips together. His mind is screaming at him to _stop this, stop this now_ until the last second, but all he manages is to slow his momentum incrementally, so it’s not just an artless clash, more of a –

“Oh.”

Aziraphale breathes the word into the kiss, and Crowley’s brain stops working completely.

All he knows is touch after touch, always followed in its wake by a new rush of feeling.

Only one clear thought manages to break through: Aziraphale isn’t pulling away.

And Crowley will be damned ( _well… again_ ) if he does.

An indefinite amount of time later, they break apart.

It’s Aziraphale who takes a step back, eyes shining suspiciously, face a bit flushed.

Crowley panics, but plays it cool.

He has thousands of years of experience in that, after all, one major lapse just now notwithstanding.

“You wanted to ask me something?”

His voice is steady, even if he isn’t.

There’s a completely new look on Aziraphale’s face, one Crowley cannot read (panic solidifies like a sick weight in his stomach), but then there’s also a warm smile in his angel’s beloved voice when he replies.

“I think you just answered every question I could possibly have, my dear – ah, there, I know what it was, would you perhaps like to go out for dinner?”

“No.”

Crowley accompanies his reply with a new look of his own. An unmistakable one, he hopes, though it’s bravado, all bravado. He is back to being absolutely terrified, but…

Aziraphale blushes. Rather spectacularly, even. Apple-red.

“Oh, right, no, I suppose not. Indeed not.”

He gives a nervous little laugh, looks so earnest at the same time. Takes a steadying breath before he continues.

“Well, shall we retire, then?”

If the kiss wasn’t a dead giveaway, his face is definitely revealing everything he feels about Aziraphale right about now, Crowley knows. (It just might so happen that he has a particular fondness for his angel’s slightly archaic phraseology.)

But, as it turns out, that’s alright, because of the way Aziraphale is looking back at him.

So “Lead the way, love,” is all Crowley says in return.

And Aziraphale does.


End file.
